


Drop your shields

by Redrocketeer



Series: A weight divided [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: But Iggy is never in danger, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Finding hope in dark places, Gladio rages, Good isn't perfect, Ignis helps, M/M, but that's okay, dealing with grief, loss of a parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 04:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10586280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrocketeer/pseuds/Redrocketeer
Summary: Noctis lost his father in the attack on Insomnia but so did Gladio.  He's keeping his own counsel but is grief the only reason?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it was very weird how the game mostly dismissed the fact that Gladio (and Iris) lost their father when Noctis lost his. I wanted to take a look at what that really means to and for Gladio and for the people who care for him most.
> 
> It also touches on the fact that Gladio doesn't have the faith in Noctis that Clarus had in Regis. Not yet.

It went without saying.

As an expression Ignis found it generally unhelpful. It was hardly ever the case things were best left unsaid and assuming was folly but, every now and then, a situation arose that could, that must, be assumed.

If the King was dead, it went without saying, his Shield was too. They all knew it as they stood looking over the remains of their former home. It sank in quietly as they followed the winding road away from that scene of countless crimes. It wasn’t raised as they wrestled with what to do, nor was it floated with Cor who had lost them too. When Noctis finally exchanged his denial for anger Gladio fussed over his sister. Whenever home was mentioned Gladio dragged everyone’s gaze back to the present and the future and, for a while, they let him.

But then Noctis made a mistake.

***

The diner in Old Lestallum was staffed by the second most unsettling man the four had ever met. It wasn’t that he was deranged or making threats hand over fist. He was welcoming, he was friendly, he was _almost_ pleasant but there was an edge to him. There was a dark enthusiasm and he seemed just a little too close to his own mascot. Ignis didn’t fear him. He just didn’t wish to pass more time in his presence than was strictly needed.

And the chips weren’t even that good.

Noctis didn’t seem to notice as he took a large chunk out of the plate they’d gotten to share. It was rather bigger than the one Gladio was taking but Noctis didn’t seem to notice that. He was staring out the window, poking his chips into the sauce without even needing to look. He didn’t look back to speak and Ignis read it as deliberate.

“I just want you to know that I’m grateful. To your father, for what he did.”

Prompto and Ignis’ eyes turned to look at Gladio automatically, Prompto to see what he’d do, Ignis feeling sharply protective. The shield gave a snort and looked like he wanted to say something but his eyes dropped, his hands tightened on the edge of the table. A moment later he pushed off and was gone. Prompto looked at Ignis, wondering what to do.

“If you will excuse me, Highness,” Ignis said. As he left he realised he was glad the prince had spoken. Nothing had been right for a long time and he’d had enough of it.

It wasn’t hard to find Gladio. He was crossing the field behind the hotel, just walking for the sake of walking. Ignis didn’t run after him, merely walked a little quicker until he caught up.  
“Excuse the interruption, Gladio. I was just wondering,” Ignis began.  
“Wondering what?”  
“Wondering when this was going to be over.”  
“When what is going to be over?”  
“When you’re going to stop pretending you don’t care that your father is dead.”  
Gladio stopped walking then, balling large fists and staring at the ground in front of him. “Fuck off, Iggy,” he said, voice coiled tight as a drum. He set off again at a stalk.

Ignis sighed and fortified himself. He hadn’t want it to come to his next move but his hand had been forced. His voice was so cool as he called out after his retreating partner, “Or is it that you actually don’t care? You haven’t needed him for a long time, you’re a man now, and shields die. They’re expendable, after all.”  
Ignis’ own words made him feel sick to the stomach but he had accepted long ago there were going to be few easy options left to them.

The roar that rose from Gladio was a war cry. The big man spun with terrifying speed, snapping up Ignis’ collar and shoving his fist against Ignis’ chest. Ignis was forced up on his toes, the breath gone from his lungs but he was unafraid. It was exactly the reaction he’d been after.

His whole manner changed as he looked into Gladio’s eyes. “Why don’t you tell me?” he said gently but underlaid with iron.  
Gladio breathed hard, as if he’d been running, his eyes were bloodshot and darting but they focused at Ignis’ words. He looked as if cold water had been poured over him as he slowly let go of Ignis collar and dropped his shoulders, falling against the slight man who was practiced at taking his weight.

“Look, if you think I resented the King you’re wrong,” Gladio growled, breathing out slowly. “I never did. I was proud at how devoted my Old Man was. Hell, if he’d put us first I would’ve been ashamed. That’s how it’s meant to be. That what it means, to carry our name. I _wanted_ to be like that.”

Ignis had observed father and son together. They were strikingly similar in many ways but, like many young men, Gladio had fought that comparison, determined to find his own way even to follow the same path. Clarus had challenged his son but it was obvious to all that he loved him too. It was quite a thing to lose, the love of a father. Ignis didn’t believe for a second there was any point in denying that but it seemed it wasn’t just grief at issue.

“Wanted?” Ignis asked gently, hands lightly stroking Gladio’s back both to soothe and to keep busy.

Gladio shook his head and it was then that Ignis knew it hadn’t been grief that Gladio had been hiding after all. With a heavy heart Ignis held onto Gladio. He knew there was no easy fix for what was troubling his love. Noctis was not Regis, and could never be. Gladio was not his father. The raw king and his shield would have to sort some things out for themselves just as, no doubt, Clarus and Regis once had as young men. No amount of love, or reason, on Ignis part could push or smooth that process. He could only trust that it would happen.

Another deep breath told Ignis that Gladio wasn’t done.  
“Do you really think I’m expendable?”

Ignis smiled. Finally an easy question to answer. He took Gladio’s jaw in his and held his gaze. “To the Crown? Yes. To me? No, my darling. Nor to your king, any more than your father was to his.” His kiss was gentle and considered, slow and rich with all of his tender feeling, desperate to eliminate Gladio’s doubt.

The knot in his chest finally dissolved when Gladio kissed back.

Ignis fingers slipped between Gladio’s, locking together. “Walk with me?” he asked lightly. Gladio nodded, his relief starting to show. He felt a little floaty as Gladio took back his own weight, the sensation amusing him. The sheer presence of the man beside him could drive him to distraction when he let it.

Now that the damn was busted Gladio’s thoughts seemed to flow more freely. Ignis squeezed his hand tight in encouragement. “He had to be all of us,’ Gladio said. “Friend, advisor, shield. I only gotta be one, thanks to you and the squirt. My job’s never gonna be as hard.”

Ignis raised his free hand to take Gladio’s arm in his and leant on his shoulder.” Quite true, my darling,” he said and hoped with every fibre of his being that Gladio was right.


End file.
